The Boondock Saints
by For The Taking
Summary: "After a hard day at work, we was hoping to come home ta a lovin' woman. But look at her go!" The twins were the highlight in my life as a bartender at McGinty's. But I find myself in for a lot more trouble than I asked for after the Russians arrive, the cold barrel resting against my head being one. Connor/OC/Murphy.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** "After a hard day at work, we was hoping to come home ta a lovin' woman. But look at her go!" The twins were the highlight in my life as a bartender at McGinty's. But I find myself in for a lot more trouble than I asked for after the Russians arrive, the cold barrel resting against my head being one. **Connor/OC/Murphy**.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything related to Boondock Saints, only my OC. SIgh.

* * *

Working as a bartender at McGinty's with a homely Irish man, in a shoddy Irish neighborhood, had its perks and downfalls. The pay wasn't the great in the world, but Doc, god bless the old man, gave me more than what my job entitled. Thankfully the perks outweighed the cons by a landslide, so I didn't have the inclination to change my lifestyle anytime soon.

An involuntary smile made its way onto my face as I served up another pint of Guinness at the already plastered Louie, a sweet-heart of a regular.

"Than'ks, lovely," The older gentleman managed out with a goofy smile, eliciting a laugh from me, "Can't have me, too much, it's Patty's Day!"

"You're very welcome, Louie," I wiped down the spill near his empty glass, already making my way down the bar towards Doc to help. There was a distinct lack of Irish in my voice and appearance, but I loved everything about these rowdy Irishmen. And it didn't seem to bother Doc or the customers at all that I worked at the Irish bar.

This night in particular had the place packed to the point where it was bursting at the seams. All the staff were working non-stop, always moving as they bustled to cater to the customers. My feet ached more than usual and my clothes were stained with every brand of alcohol available here. But I was having the time of my life. And it was obvious why though, it was the holiday of drinking.

"Happy fuckin' Saint Patty's Day!" Twin voices called out from the door.

Another round of rambunctious laughter and cheer deafened the ears of all the McGinty's patrons. It was only but a few seconds before two familiar faces with roguish, heart stopping smiles greeted me.

"Well, if it isn't our favorite Irish-by-heart woman," Connor MacManus began, reaching over the counter to pull my hand away from cleaning. Before I could protest, he placed a kiss on my knuckle. The blush growing on my face started even before his lips touched my skin, his gray-blue eyes never leaving mine. Connor was definitely a lady-killer with his almost-blonde hair spiked and blowing everywhere. He was a well-built man, his black sweater doing wonders in showing it off. When he wanted to, he could talk the pants off any woman.

"I'd say the best part o' coming here, especially on Saint Patty's. Ey, dear brother?" Murphy MacManus cut in, taking my hand from his brother and flipping it to place his own kiss on my palm. Unlike his brother, Murphy was the darker one, his black hair short and almost-tame. Compared to his brother, Murphy was much more lean but still muscular. His own sweater hung on to him. His eyes, took my breath away every time, they were a lighter and stronger blue.

Damn them both for being so attractive, their Irish accent and personalities only adding onto their appeal. I was pretty sure they coordinated their wardrobe consciously and unconsciously. It was cute.

Sometimes I wished I could join them as a patron at the bar rather than working. But only sometimes, it was just as fun being the one serving the drinks.

It didn't even seem to dawn on them that my hand, after working so long, might not exactly be the cleanest or pleasant smelling.

The twin grins on their faces almost had me a mess on the floor.

_Almost._

Rolling my eyes I took my hand back, unwillingly, and snapped the dirty towel at them.

"Y'all say that to **all** the girls here, boys. _You're not gettin' a free drink from me_," pulling an Irish accent, one I've mastered after working here for so long. The boys always seemed to get a kick out of it, asking me to speak with an accent often. They really did make me feel a bit better about my ruffled appearance. The black v-neck shirt and shorts looked fine, as well as my hair, a few hours ago but now, I was pretty sure I looked about as worn in as I felt.

"Why I never!"

"Look at tha lass, talkin' to us like that."

"After everything we've talked 'bout!"

"After a hard day at work, we was hoping to come home ta a **lovin'** woman. But look at her go!"

They were like textbook twins, starting and finishing one after the other.

The mock looks of insult on their faces had me laughing as I leaned forward and placed pecks on their cheeks.

"Happy Saint Patty's Day."

As the night rolled in, the noise level never dropped.

Especially as a certain Italian made his way into the bar with his trademark smile.

He snuck his way behind the two brothers, sending me a wink as he did so. The best friend, and lackey of the MacManus brothers. His constant flirting and jokes made him a shoe-in into my list of favorite people. His only honest downfall being his affiliation with the Italian Mafia, the Yakavettas. But that didn't stop him from being a great guy and friend.

"Hey! Fuck-Ass, get me some beer!"

David Della Rocco

The response was immediate.

I had to duck to the side as Doc threw his dirty towel at the laughing boys.

I reached to fill another glass of Guinness and a shot of Whiskey as Murphy pulled Rocco into a backwards embrace, Connor slapping a hand onto the Italian's back. There were greetings all around as he wedged himself into the seat between the two Irish brothers.

Placing the drinks on the bar, I leaned forward carefully as Rocco reached over and kissed my cheek in greeting.  
"A rose among the shit storm of ugly Irishmen," Rocco called out, wincing in good humor as five sets of hands smacked him in various ways. Another round of laughter surrounded them.

* * *

It was almost two in the morning and the place was almost empty. Now occupying the stools of the bar were my six favorite customers with Doc and I remaining behind the bar. Most everyone was gone and closing time was about to come. I dreaded leaving the safety of the bar because I was pretty sure I would cry at the sight of all the trash and bottles strewn around the place. But I would try and clean up a little before Doc caught me and chased me out the door with a broom. He didn't like having me wait up and clean so late in the night, even giving the MacManus brothers a firm talking that they were to walk me home.

Which really wouldn't have mattered either way.

We all walked to the same residence, me living next door.

And let me tell you, those walls were anything but solid. I practically lived with them, sometimes having conversations through the walls. It was quite hilarious the first time I visited them, the door had no locks and could be knocked open with a breath. Whereas my door had two locks on them aside from the standard knob lock, on insistence by the brothers.

Seriously, I almost freaked out when I couldn't get into my place. I had to camp at their place until the brothers came home. And to their amusement, and my chagrin (and later thankfulness) they informed me they had installed two locks while I was out grocery shopping. Without telling me.

What the fuck.

I made sure to punch them both in the shoulder for that. And hugs.

They were really too sweet.

I pretty much gave away my rights to privacy the moment I decided to live there.

I was nursing my own pint of beer, sitting on a stool as Doc sent me a sad glance.

Oh. He was going to tell them. Suddenly I didn't feel quite as happy, giving him my own assuring smile.

"A-alright, alright. Listen here boys. I got some very bad news," Doc started, leaning against the bar with his arms, "I-I'm gonna have to close down the b-b-bar-**FUCK..ASS**. And the Russians aren't lettin' me renew my lease."

Seeing the bleary, confused looks on the boys faces, I took a large gulp from my beer. Their reactions were identical to my own, except I might have been much more angry. And threatening to castrate the Russians. Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly the same.

The boys looked towards me in confirmation.

"The Russians are putting buildings up on the street, fucking told us a week ago. Assholes didn't even give us an earlier heads up. _Almost cut their nose off with my butterknife_," I mumbled, propping my face on my palm as my elbow rested against the hardwood surface. My anger problem seemed to amuse them the slightest as they chuckled at my disgruntled face.

Connor's hand rested on my propped arm, his thumb rubbing my skin, distracting the hell out of me.

"Aye, we're pretty sure you'd take down tha whole mob with your butter knife if ye' wanted to lass," Connor supplied soothingly, having to snatch his hand away laughing with the others as I made a chopping motion at his wrist.

"Woman's wrath, Connor, never forget," I threatened, snatching a drink out of his cup, finding that my glass was empty.

"Yeah Con, t'day's just a day where women are just throwing punches at ya," Murphy pipped in with a drunken grin.

"For fuck's sake! That was not a woman, I tell ya!"

"Con-man, you're not gonna get laid like that," Rocco joked, rubbing salt onto the wound before turning to Doc, "Let me talk to my boss, maybe he can do something-"

He was cut off as everyone, including myself groaned in protest.

"The fuck your boss gonna do, man?" Connor glared at the Italian as Murphy took a half-hearted slug to Rocco's head.

I doubted Yakavetta gave a flying fuck about this Irish bar.

"Now, now. Listen fellas, I don't want anyone ta know," Doc pointed at the curly-haired Joe in emphasis, "So you keep your traps shut! Y'know what they say, people in glass houses sh-sh-sink ships!"

And there went the tension. I could barely keep from bursting out laughing with the rest of the guys. Doc really had a way with words, nothing beat his sayings.

"Doc, I gotta buy you like a proverb book of something," Rocco laughed in between his words, "This mix and match shits gotta go."

"What?"

"Come on guys, if it ain't broke, join 'em," I recited from memory with a cheeky smile, earning nudge in the arm from Doc and laughter from the others.

"Well, a penny saved is worth two in a bush, isn't it?" Connor joined, waving his cigarette with a half-serious look.

"And, and," Murphy tapped against the bar, leaning further onto it, "Don't cross the road...if you can't get out the kitchen."

By now, they were all in stitches as they buried themselves into the drinks and surface of the bar to stifle their laughs. My forehead landed on Connor's outstretched arm, as I tried to smooth out my aching stomach. Thanking the Lord for the man that was Doc.

The door knocking back into the frame alerted me of newcomers but it was the groans and tensing of Connor's arm that had me looking up. Seeing the familiar burly men make their way towards us, I sat up in my stool, reaching out to hold onto Connor's arm tightly.

I missed the look Connor and Murphy shot me, finding myself too busy staring at the Russian soldier. The patrons of the bar all turned to face the newcomers, Connor only being able to turn half way in his stool due to my hold on his forearm.  
Doc seemed to share my sentiments as he froze to stare at the Russians in fear and trepidation.

"I am Ivan Chekov, and you will be closing **now**," The largest of the three informed as he worked to pull off his leather gloves. I could barely hold in my snort, this was the same three that came a week ago to kindly tell them to fuck off. I let my hand slide off as the guys moved to stand off their stools. I was surrounded by drunken Irishmen, there was only one way that this night would end.

_"Chekov_," Murphy quirked an eyebrow at the taller man, his eyes glinting in mirth as he reached out to hold Rocco around the shoulders, "Well, this here's McCoy. We find a Spock, we've got us an away team."

The humor seemed lost to the three Russians, as they brushed aside Murphy's joke.

"Me in no mood for discussion.** You**, and you and the girl, stay," Ivan motioned towards Doc and myself with a glare, "The rest of you, go now."

"Well, _me in no mood for discussion either_. So-" I cut myself off from my Russian rant as Doc dropped a heavy hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"Why don't you make like a tree, and get the fuck out of here!"

I had to smile at that as the locals groaned at Doc's blunder.

I caught Murphy's eye as he and his brother reached back for their Guinness glasses. I took in his small smirk as he turned back towards the Russians. Looking back, I barely noticed that Connor, Rocco, and Murphy had moved to block me from the Russian's view. I pursed my lips to keep from smiling.

"Listen fellas, Y'know he's got 'til this week's end. Ya don't have ta be hard asses, do ya?" Connor, the ever peace-keeper.

From all that was happening, I had to admit, the Russians knew how to keep a poker face.

"It's St. Patty's Day, everyone's Irish tonight. Why don't you just pull up a stool and have a drink with us?" The cigarette hung precariously on his lips as Murphy motioned towards the bar.

Then the glasses went flying. Ivan jerked forward, slamming the glasses out of the brother's hands and sending them smashing on the floor. For a big guy, he really knew how to move quickly.

But the glasses.

"Really? Did you have to do that?" I griped out, drawing Ivan's attention.

"This is no game woman! If they won't go, we will make them go."

Everyone shared an uneasy look with one another.


	2. Chapter 2

I realized. I never gave her name. Ha.

Yoona. (You-na)

**Thank you guys for the support! It's very encouraging. Helped me write this monster of a chapter.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

The coffee was by no means gourmet but it tasted like a slice of heaven the moment it hit my tongue. Ignoring the nasty sting, I forced the black gold down my throat, only pausing to take in the occasional breath. Considering the morning the boys and I had, I had no qualms in eating all the donuts in this police station. The general soreness of my body had me leaning forward in my cheap chair, leaning against the metal backing rubbed my back the wrong way.

Resting my elbows against the wooden table, I watched FBI Agent Smecker discuss something with the officer outside. I practically inhaled the last of my coffee, wriggling my ass on the seat hoping to relieve some of the aches. This was my first time even being the police station, let alone reporting an assault that led to the deaths of two Russian mobsters. In all honesty, I was pretty damn sure all three of our appearances looked convincing to our defense. Murphy, with his bruises and red rimmed eyes. Connor, with his own bruises, wrapped wrists, and bloody robe. And myself with a big, beautiful shiner that covered half my face and a back patched with bandages to the point where I looked like one of my old, barely alive, jeans.

I bit into the plain doughnut, tensing the slightest as a warm hand skimmed the slit of flesh between the hem of my shirt and waistband of my pajama bottoms. I could feel Connor and Murphy glare at my back, particularly the bandages under my shirt that scattered my back in patches. If it weren't for the pain, I would've been flinching at the ticklish feeling as Murphy's fingers traced the lowest bandage. His hand felt like the warmest thing in this room, a comfort compared to the cold air.

This entire time, the boys fretted over me despite Connor being the most injured. Sighing, I slapped my right hand down onto Connor's uncovered knee to my right and rubbed the skin. Tougher than Godzilla, these two boys were.

I barely caught the small chuckle from Murphy as Connor grunted at the slap and rub.

I wasn't particularly mad at this point, so I could only imagine that later on, I would be able to laugh at this moment.

Here we were, the boys in nothing but boxers and robes, and me in my white tank top and plaid pajama bottoms. All three of us had rat nests toping our heads. My fingers itched for my polaroid camera. This was definitely one for the books.

Finally, Agent Smecker closed the glass doors to the room, closing the blinds to block out the wandering eyes. The three of us remained silent, sitting tightly clustered to one another on one side other table. I settled into simply watching as he sat down across from us and took the time to observe us one by one. Though I had to admit, Murphy's hand did wonders to prolong my patience even though it was slightly distracting. To the agent's credit, I had to like the man the slightest. He had yet to say one negative thing towards us or treated us unfairly, not even a judgmental stare. When he met my stare, I offered a small smile, feeling quite accomplished when he granted a small one in return.

"This conversation is going to be recorded," Agent Smecker informed us, reaching for the tape recorded on the center of the table, "Just answer the best that you know-"

"Excuse me, sir. Please," Murphy interrupted, pushing closer onto my side as he reached over with his free hand to stop Smecker from pressing the record button. His hand never left me as it slid over instead to lightly hold my opposite hip.

Sharing a puzzled look with Smecker, I straightened up the slightest, ready to turn to join the little huddle behind me. They were going to have a secret meeting, something they always had in the open. The thing that made it secret, even though it was in the open, was their amazing affinity for languages. I would be lying if I said I wasn't the slightest jealous, I was quite proud that I knew Spanish and Italian but the sheer amount these boys knew was mind boggling.

Connor dropped his doughnut for a moment, sliding it down to squeeze my hand on his knee. Holding back an exasperated groan, I stayed put. Let them have their own secret boys club, I didn't care.

Not really.

_I did._

And having to sit awkwardly, acting as a human wall wasn't glorifying.

* * *

"_What do we tell him about the guns and money_?" Murphy whispered in Latin, searching through his brother's eyes. He could practically feel her ire growing from beneath his hand, a small grin threatened the corner of his lips. She didn't particularly like it when they left her out of the "boys club."

Murphy tweaked a finger into her side, spotting her from the corner of his eyes as she tensed and twitched to the side, bending the slightest to the side to trap his finger in her side.

He left his hand where it was, thoroughly enjoying the prolonged contact with her skin. He could feel the muscle beneath her skin twitching sporadically.

"_We just got up and left. Bum musta rolled them before the police got there_," Connor smoothly reasoned, his own mouth betraying his amusement. He shared his dear brother's sentiments. Though often than needed, he liked having conversations with his brother in different languages in front of their favorite bartender. Just to see her face twist into some sort of pout or scowl, it was like seeing a puppy getting riled up. Sometimes it wasn't even important conversations, they hashed out nonsense at times just for a laugh.

He curled his fingers, trapping her hand as she reached up to no doubtably slap Murphy's wandering hand. Connor could only imagine the verbal mash she was trying to hold behind a poker face.

If they weren't at the police station, he would have cracked up laughing.

He hoped she wouldn't catch on to their rouse.

Connor liked her fiery temper and getting a rise from her, she tended to have less reserves in body contact then.

* * *

I closed my eyes, tilting my head down.

'_I'm going to fucking kill them,_' I strained to keep from standing up and pushing the boys to the floor. Murphy's finger digging into my side tickled something awful and Connor's hand prevented me from slapping it away. And the last thing I wanted to do was give a bad impression by splashing Murphy's hot coffee all over Murphy and Connor's hands.

_Damn them._

And the fluffy feelings they elicited from me.

I felt Murphy's finger twitch.

**Damn them to hell.**

"Okay, we're ready," Murphy chimed in lightly from my side.

I pulled my hand away from Connor like he was on fire the moment he let go. I'm pretty sure my facial expression looked murderous and I didn't really care at this point. And Smecker didn't either, going by the amused look on his face.

"You boys, and lovely lady," He gave me a pointed look, a blush burned my ears, "Are not under oath here. Just answer the questions. I'm assuming, you knew these guys from before."

I reached forward to grab two cigarettes from the case Smecker offered, humming a thanks as I did so. I didn't personally smoke but the two boys next to me did. I used to hate the smell of smoke but it almost was a pinch of home after my time in Boston. I dropped one onto Murphy's open hand and the other onto the napkin in front of the sandy-haired twin.

"We met 'em last night," Connor answered, eating through his second doughnut.

I snorted.

"Met would be a** kind** term considering their fucking manners," I blurted out, smacking my lips closed the moment I felt Murphy's hand squeeze my side in warning.

"So I gathered. They had…some pretty interesting bandages. Know anything about that?" Smecker mused lightly without an ounce of accusation.

I leaned back, away from the table and into my chair until I was snug between the two heated bodies. I looked at Connor and Murphy, sharing a look.

* * *

"_Look_, if ya want a fight, you can see you're outnumbered. We're tryin' ta be civil here, so I suggest you take our offer," that was Connor's passive aggressive tone if I heard correctly. I didn't even care that this wasn't a moment to admire him but it was his fault for being so sexy.

"**I**, make the offers," Ivan growled, pointing at himself in emphasis.

"Well. Here's **me** making one as well," I stood up, barely being able to peek over the taller men but I knew the Russian bulls could see me without much effort, "How about a round on me, your choice. How about it boys?"

The leer from all three Russians had me tensing up faster than a Jack rabbit. I forced a smile that I hoped looked sickeningly charming.

"It's St. Patty's. Everyone needs a holiday, **right**?"

A cavity was forming from the sheer amount of sweet bullshit oozing from me.

I felt Doc and the boys send me a look, they obviously didn't like the appreciating looks the Russians were giving me. And talking to them only drew more of their attention to me.

Of course I felt like I needed to scrub three layers off my skin the moment I went home after the looks they were giving me. But the bar was going to be closed down soon and the last thing I wanted was for it to be torn apart sooner than needed.

"We're not here to share shots with you _Irish pigs_, but you, what other_ offers_ you have?" The Russian lackey to the right of Ivan leered.

My face lost all pleasantries.

"Fuck off," I droned with a flat look.

Well, that was short lived.

Before they could even glare at me or curse me out in Russian, Rocco slipped back in front of me taking a split second to send me an exasperated but laughing smirk.

"Hey, there Boris! What would you do," The glass crackled beneath Rocco's feet as he shuffled around, "If I told you…that your pinko, commie mother sucked so much dick...**Her face looked like an egg**!"

The last of his sentence barely made it out before Ivan jumped forward, punching Rocco down. All the Irishmen clustered in closer to the fallen Rocco, taking stand in front of the bar.

"Fuck you!" Murphy pushed the large Russian back a step angrily.

"What are you doin'!"

"What the fuck man!"

I felt Doc pull me back away from the ledge of the bar as the boys rioted. All of their shoulders squared and tensed.

"_Now, that wasn't too polite, was it_?" Connor chastised in Russian, taking a threatening step forward.

The stunned look on the Russian's face was shared with all the other residents in the bar, aside from Murphy as he joined his brother.

"_I'm afraid, we can't let that one go, Ivan_," Murphy spat with equal venom, glaring up at the stunned Ivan.

I repressed the slight shiver at their tones, both brothers inherited a rasp when speaking the harsher languages. I made a mental note to pick up more languages if I wanted to be continue being around them. But I wasn't sure how much more I could take if I actually understood what they said when they spoke other languages. It was hard enough keeping my panties from flying off every time they spoke another language, like French. They could've been insulting my teeth and asking for a cheese omelet and I'd end up smiling stupid.

There was a pause as the Russians puzzled over whether or not the two Irishmen actually spoke perfect Russian.

Connor and Murphy took that moment to take a sip from their shot glasses, holding one another's gaze as they did so. The slight nod confirmed their silent conversation.

Then in the blink of an eye, the two brothers flashed forward in a low crouch landing solid shots onto Ivan's lower abdomen/groin.

It was an all out brawl as the others joined the two in fighting off the Russians.

I felt Doc startle and twitter the slightest.

Frowning, I grasped his hand with both hands and gave him a warm smile. He really didn't deserve this. Doc worked hard to bring this bar to what it was today and I felt terrible that it was going to end the way it did.

"Eh, what can you do, right?" I offered shrugging my shoulders, "Boys will be boys~"

I giggled as Doc shook his head laughing lightly, but I barely heard it over the shouts and general rowdiness.

"D-Don't ya dare think about joinin' them lass," I pouted as Doc gave me a stern look, "The last thing this place needs is ta b-b-be a murder scene. **FUCK. ASS**."

I hollered out a laugh, startling the Russian that crashed against the ledge of the bar.

Without missing a beat, I grabbed the empty whiskey bottle and smashed it over his bald head. Stunned, the Russian could do nothing as two pairs of hands yanked him away from the bar.

_"Lass,_" Doc

"You worry too much Doc," I held up the broken bottle, ignoring the pink edges of the glass, "Besides that didn't kill him."

I smiled at his eye roll.

Soon Doc was cheering the Irishmen on like an avid fan at a rugby game.

_**CRASH**_

I winched as we lost a mirrored pillar, the glass shattering beyond repair.

Adding that the rising casualties of furniture.

Two of the three Russians were down.

With one left hounding Murphy, the guys rushed in to help the darker twin but were quickly pushed away by Connor.

"**Stay away**, he can take care of himself!"

I watched as Murphy reached back around his head to grab two wine bottles from the rack above him. Even Doc let out a flinch as the two bottles crashed into either side of the Russian's face. And like that he was down for the count, soaked to the bone in wine.

But the Irishmen weren't done with the Russians yet.

With a bit of muscle, they wrestled the leader of the three onto the bar. Ivan rousing to consciousness just as they tightened the last of the ropes holding him down.

"Got another bottle ta spare, love?" Connor asked, leaning against the bar casually as if a large, pissed off Russian wasn't tied to said bar wasn't below him.

"_Aye_," I played along, pulling out an almost empty bottle of Jack. No use wasting a new bottle.

"I recommend a little fire to bring out the taste," I added with a garish wink.

"You think everythin' tastes better with fire," Murphy teased, passing an extra cigarette to his brother.

Connor twirled the bottle with flare as he sprinkled the alcohol over Ivan's ass. Everyone else laughed and sat back to observe, having sobered-up due to the fight.

Striking a match, Connor lit his own smoke before dropping it onto the Russian's pants.

Another round of laughter was shared as it burst into a small flame, the Russian's screams drowned out by the noise.

* * *

The first thing I woke up to was the cotton-like texture in my mouth. Groaning I rolled over in my mattress and onto the cold, unforgiving floor. I had no idea what time it was and frankly didn't give a damn. I slept well enough but I hated waking up. Period.

After suffering on the cold floor for a minute out of pure laziness, I managed to push myself into a sitting position. Sniffling from the cold I rubbed my arms as goose bumps littered my pale skin. I couldn't hear anything other than myself sniffling.

Guess the boys were still asleep.

I couldn't remember if they had work today, figured I'd let them wake up by themselves.

Yawning, I worked through the motions of making myself some coffee. The amount of happiness I felt when I held my Joe was ridiculous but no one was there to see my silly smile anyways.

Then my door came crashing down.

Literally.

I jumped, my hand tightening around my mug as one of the Russians from last night glared down at me. There was a pause between us, the raspy breaths of the larger man filling the room. I eyed the plaster white bandages wrapped tightly around his head.

Sucking in a breath, I threw the mug at his face, the scalding coffee burning his face and eyes.

"**AUUGHHH**"

I quickly made my around the man, barely squeezing through the door as he screamed out in Russian.

I made it out just in time to see Ivan the Russian barge his way into the MacManus's residence. Without a thought, I quickly made my way in.

"Ivan!" I screamed, hoping to distract him long enough. I couldn't see either brother around his large frame but I hoped they were awake. I didn't even get to address his bandaged ass before a large hand dragged my shoulder down. Gasping I was forced to turn around, only getting a glimpse at the Russian's red face before I was knocked down to the floor.

Stars danced in my eyes as I faintly heard garbled versions of my name and Russian.

Being slapped silly by a bear of a man was brain scrambling. The whole right side of my face throbbed, my ear ringing and my eye already struggling to open. I suspected the heart-racing adrenaline was the only thing keeping me from bursting out in tears from the pain. Groaning, I barely made a fight as I was forced back onto my feet.

"Get **UP**, you stupid bitch!"

"Fuck that shit," I moaned, teetering on my feet barely tuning in as Ivan sent Connor to the ground with the butt of his gun.

"Connor!" I gasped out involuntarily, the pain momentarily forgotten.

The Russian holding me let out a growl as he moved forward, dragging me along and throwing me to my knees. His hand left me but the cold barrel of his gun dug into my scalp as Murphy was brought to his knees beside me. I cast Murphy a look, the fear written plain across my bruised face.

Murphy's face cinched with anger as he caught sight of my face.

"Cuff yourself!"

Murphy and I turned to watch with a bated breath as Ivan forced Connor to chain himself around the base of the toilet.

"You know why I fuckin' come here?" Ivan grated out, pushing Connor harder onto the toilet, "I fuckin' come here to **kill** you. But now, I don't think I fuckin' kill you. I kill your **brother.**"

My throat closed in as I reached out to grasp Murphy's hand desperately. Everything was blowing out of proportion and I didn't know what to do.

"Fuckin' shoot him in the head," Ivan continued, reaching to grasp Connor's short hair and pulling until they were both looking at us, "And your whore. Well, we'll see how long she'll last."

The grin on his face finally broke the dam as tears gathered in my eyes. I locked eyes with Connor, unable to even whimper as I took comfort in Murphy's tight grip.

* * *

"**FUCK YOU**!" Connor instantly screamed, devastation filling him as he watched Ivan stomp over to his brother and their neighbor, "_**MURPH! YOONA**_!"

"**CONNOR**!" Murph was yanked to his feet by his robe, ripped away from Yoona as Ivan took possession of the smaller figure. Pulling her by her upper arm and out the door, her startled scream trailing behind them.

"It's just a fucking BAR fight! You guys are fuckin' pussies!" Connor's eyes never left them as Murphy struggled the entire way to the door.

"**MURPH**"

His entire body tensed and flushed, Connor for the first time in his life feeling immeasurable, seam-busting fear. His throat tearing out at his screams as Murphy and Yoona both turned to send him a final look. Murphy's face hardened in anger and loss whereas Yoona's own crippled in pain and tears of fear.

"**YOONA**"

* * *

I struggled to walk coherently between the numbing shock, the gruff and tight pull of Ivan, and the fading screaming of Connor. The entire trip down, I tried to take a look at Murph but was constantly forced forward and away.

It wasn't until we were out the door of the building and into the alley way that Ivan's hand left me. Quickly I whipped around and wrapped my arms around Murphy, stopping him from stumbling as he was pushed forward. His armed clamped around me, pulling me flush against his front as he moved so his back was facing the Russians.

"_Listen ta me_, we're going to be-"

I gasped, tearing away from Murphy and right into another body wall. The arm around my throat tightened until I was clawing at the arm, choking for air.

"Fuckin' LET HER GO!"

In a flurry of motions, I was sent stumbling back until my back hit the brick wall. The rough edges dug into my back painfully. I sucked in the largest breath, desperate for air before the Russian wrapped his hand around my jaw and throat. It tightened until my jaw throbbed painfully, my teeth biting into my lip until it tore through. A pained gasp left me as he jerked my jaw up until I was on my toes trying to relieve the pressure. The cold barrel of the gun once again pressing against my head.

"_Watch_," the Russian growled forcing my face to the left.

I let out a cry at the sight.

"_Murphy_!"

* * *

"I hope your conscious is clear, Irishman," Ivan laughed, his finger twitching to fire the gun.

Murphy turned, his blue eyes sharpening as he looked over the hanging Yoona. His entire body burned with anger.

Connor. Yoona.

Closing his eyes, Murphy forced his gaze back on the Russian.

A flicker of white forced his gaze higher.

**No fucking way**.

* * *

Murphy's shout had me looking up, my eyes widening at the figure free falling from the sky, a robe flapping wildly around him.

Closing my eyes tightly, I ducked my head as best as I could, raising my arms away from the Russian's arm and over my head.

It was like being crushed with a car.

The barrel of the gun dug into my head painfully before sliding off and away to my right just as it went off. The sound was deafening and heart-stopping at just how close it was to my head. The heat from the gun stung my skin, but it was forgotten as a heavy weight pushed me harder into the wall taking my breath.

Teeth grinding, the weight pushed me down until I was dragged down along the wall and onto the floor.

All within a second.

Connor was sprawled in front of me, unconscious and bloody.

I was trapped in an awkward half sitting and half lying against the brick wall with the unconscious Russian on top of me.

It was Murphy coming into my sight that had me finally taking a breath.

"Yoona! Are you alright?!" His eyes trailed me as his hands searched for Connor's pulse.

At my weak nod he looked down and gave his whole attention into making sure his brother was alive. At his relieved sigh, I took a moment to close my eyes and thank the Lord.

There was a grunt before the hand that was on my breast squeezed painfully drawing a pained gasp from me.

Murphy shot up, running back over to the trash bags to grab the remaining porcelain piece of the toilet. With a snarl he kicked the man off Yoona before slamming the lid down onto Russian, ceasing only when Yoona called his name.

"Murphy," I barely called out, my throat burning and struggling to work. I had crawled to check Connor myself, the bruised side of my face pressed firmly against his chest. I could feel some of his blood rubbing onto my face but I didn't care. I could hear his heart beating strong.

Jesus Christ.

I will never miss a day of church ever again.

I watched, coughing, as Murphy glanced at me and Connor, throwing the toilet lid away. He moved quickly, scrambling to grab a green paper bag and over to Ivan. It took me a second before realizing that he was taking everything off the downed Russian.

I wasn't sure if I could walk, so I crawled over to the unconscious Russian beside me and began pulling everything off his person. I pulled the last of his possessions, a golden watch off his wrist just as Murphy crouched beside me shoving all the things I grabbed.

He gently pushed the bag into my arms with a look.

I nodded, taking a second to admire Murphy working to pull the unconscious, but alive, Connor off the ground and around his shoulders.

It took me a while to shake the jelly out of my legs.

Then we ran.

* * *

With the adrenaline still running through our system, it didn't seem long before we found ourselves huddled in the hallway of a Catholic Hospital. Bloodied but bandaged up, I tucked myself onto a gurney beside a little boy. After a quick call, we were waiting on Doc.

The green bag all but forgotten at the feet of Murphy as the twins teased the sickly boy.

"Look at ta ceiling. Sense n' touch alone. Wait till ya feel me," Connor instructed, the smirk seemingly stuck on his face as the boy followed his instructions. He withheld a chuckle as Murphy reached over and lightly slapped the boy's hand farthest from himself.

"See! I was so quick, you couldn't even feel it go, could ya!" Connor jested.

I let out a giggle with the young boy.

The two were amazing with kids.

Probably because they were in some sense still kids themselves. And acted like complete children at times too.

A quick motion from Murphy had us smothering our laughs. Spotting Doc shuffling towards us, I slid off the gurney. My toes barely touched the linoleum flooring before the older Irishman enveloped me in a hug. I buried myself into his hug, the familiar sting of tears rising up. I pushed them back, enjoying the smell of cigar ash and fresh pine. A breath of home.

"Lass, ya l-look like death," Doc flustered brushing a loose strand of hair away from my face. His fingers barely grazed my cheek but it was enough to have me wince. His expression was apologetic before he rounded his worried gaze on the boys.

They flinched back for a second, almost anticipating the Doc to rip them a new one. But they seemed to realize he wouldn't do so after a second of silence. I shot them a knowing grin.

"Thanks for comin' Doc," Murphy whispered as we huddled away from the boy. Couldn't let him hear or see the bag.

"J-Jesus. _What the fuck happened_? Are you ya b-boys all right?" Doc stuttered out, eyes flitting over the two younger Irishmen.

"We're alive," Connor supplied.

"A-an F.B.I. agent came by the bar. He left me his c-c, he left me his c-c, oh he fuckin' gave me this," Doc dug into his vest pocket pulling out a small card. He gave it to Connor before turning away, almost like he were going to sneeze.

"**FUCK…ASS**!"

The curse words were almost heavenly sounding even as the nuns gasped at the offensive words.

I honestly thought I wouldn't be able to hear them again. Without a word I tucked myself into Doc's side, hugging him again.

It only seemed to startle him for a moment before he returned my hug.

"What are you gonna do?"

"We're gonna turn ourselves in. Tell 'em it was self defense," Connor replied, like it was the most obvious answer. Murphy took the business card from his brother, reading the name on the card with a critical eye.

"Y-yeah, that's what he said," Doc stuttered out.

"What?" I questioned, finally pulling away.

"How the fucks he know that? We haven't spoken to anyone yet?" Murphy raised a brow, looking at Connor and I for confirmation.

"I d-don't know. He didn't say,"

We shared a puzzled look.

"Alright," Murphy drawled out, clearing his throat, "Listen Doc, we need ya to do us a favor."

"A-a-a-anything."  
"Just hold onto this for us," Connor handed the rumpled, green bag, "We'll come back for it when we get out."

The twins gave Doc an unwavering look.

"R-right!"

"You can put it in my locker, Doc," I offered with a smile, patting his shoulder. I just about turned mushy as he pulled me close and placed a kiss on my bruised forehead.

We watched as he shuffled away.

"_**FUCK. ASS**_"

Murphy and I burst into a fit of giggles.

Connor moved to console the startled boy on the gurney.

Some things never changed.

* * *

We were definitely a sight to behold, limping down the sidewalk in our jammies. Beaten and bruised.

Connor squeezed in between Murphy and myself as we helped him limp towards the police station.

Normally I would've been shivering but I was sweating from the effort of moving Connor and myself and Connor was a natural heater.

The stairs were murder, probably because it was the last stretch into the building. Reaching forward I pulled the heavy glass door open, holding it as the two brothers shuffled in.

With a point of a finger and a stunned look from the front man we moved as a slow unit further into the station.

"_…miles away by now. But if you want to beat your head against the wall. Here's what you're lookin' for._"

I shared a grin with the brothers. No doubt they were talking about us.

"They're scared. Like three little bunny rabbits. Anythin' in a uniform or flashing or flashin' blue lights is goin' to spook them. Okay,"

We limped through the hall until we reached an opening to our left. It was brimming with cops and detectives. We turned and made eye contact in a grey suit, standing right in the middle of the cops. Hands propped on his hips, the man ran a critical eye on us just as we did on him.

"So the only thing we can do. Is put a potato on a string and drag it through South Boston."

I couldn't tell who was speaking but I had to smile at that.

Funny guy.

"You'd probably have better luck with beer," Murphy interrupted the light laughter with a grin.

Like that, dozens of eyes turned towards us, some straightening up in their chairs.

"Yah, ya would," Connor confirmed.

"I'd actually prefer donuts, if you have any," I smiled prettily.

* * *

"So," Smecker finished the recording, curiosity brimming his voice," How is it you guys are fluent in Russian?"

My eyebrows were permanently glued to the ceiling.

This man was extremely good. From start to finish, the little details he mentioned were scary to say the least.

"We paid attention at school," Connor slumped back in his chair, throwing an arm across the back of my chair, his arm brushing against my shoulders.

"Do you speak any other languages?" Smecker inquired with honest curiosity.

"Aye," Murphy confirmed, "Our mother insisted on it."

I rolled my eyes. They were going to show off.

"French," I began.

"_How do you think he figured all this out without talking to us_?" Murphy continued flawlessly in said language. I closed my eyes to appreciate the soft words.

"Oh, that's beautiful," Smecker complimented quietly.

"_I have no idea. Maybe someone saw and talked,_" Connor carried on the conversation with a grin.

"_In our neighborhood_?" I questioned in Italian. Finally, one language I could understand.

I had turned to face Connor with my question, missing the pleasant surprise on Smecker's face.

"What's that?"

Murphy however saw it clear and grinned into his smoke.

Connor gave a small laugh.

"Italian."

"_She's right. Not in our neighborhood, man. A hundred percent Irish_," Murphy switched to German with little to no stop. Even in German, I could understand the last bit, sounding almost like English.

"_No one talks to cops. Period._"

"_Yavo_," Smecker awed.

"_Then I guess he's simply very, very good_," Connor finished in Spanish.

"_Or psychic_," I quipped with my own Spanish.

There was a round of light humor and laughter shared.

"What are you guys workin' at a freakin' meat packing planet? And a lady like yourself at a bar?"

All three of us shrugged in unison with a grin and smile.

"Uh, Agent Smecker?"

A cop in uniform eased himself in, sneaking a glance at the two men and woman.

"Yeah?" Smecker turned away with a bright smile.

"The press everywhere outside. They're goin' nuts for these guys, I don't know what you want to do," Officer Chaffey informed.

Smecker turned back towards the trio.

"You're not being charged, It's up to you. Do you want to talk to them?"

I grimaced reflexively, picking up Connor's coffee and taking a sip of the cold caffeine.

"**_Pfff_**, absolutely not," Connor groaned.

"No pictures, either," Murphy dumped his ashes into his coffee cup, frowning at the idea of the press.

"I'd rather stay here," I admitted as Smecker looked at me pointedly.

"Yeah, is there anywhere we can stay here?" Murphy asked, looking towards the officer.

I bit my lip, tucking my cut lip in as I held in the smile as the Officer eagerly stepped forward, quick to answer.

"**Y-Yeah**! We have an extra holding cell. You can stay-" Officer Chaffey paused at the looks and grins he was receiving, particular the one from Agent Smecker.

I felt a bit of pity for him as he swallowed nervously.  
"Can they stay?" He looked so honestly confused and worried.

Unable to handle the question, I turned away smiling uncontrollably. Connor looked at me with his own smile. Quickly, my smile melted into a softer one as I took in his appearance. Pausing for a moment at his bandaged wrist.

He seemed to notice. A hand cupped the back of my neck, rubbing the abused flesh tenderly. I startled for a second, forgetting the arm behind me. I leaned closer to him.

"Well, we'll have to check with your mom. But it's okay with me if your friends sleep over," The sassy swing in his tone had me turning away and grinning at the Agent.

We shared another laugh at the flustered Officer, who was now smiling abashed.

"Time to feed the dogs~" With a flash of his coat, Smecker was out the door.

There was a pause as we relaxed in our seats.

Officer Chaffey shuffled in his spot, observing us with a shy look.

"So, those cells. Do they come with a **king-sized**?" I smiled at him encouragingly.

Who knew a grown man could blush so cutely.


End file.
